


i want a word for the moment you know you’re almost home

by songandsilence



Category: Psy-Changeling - Nalini Singh
Genre: Alternative Universe - FBI, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:05:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songandsilence/pseuds/songandsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Special Agent Kincaid?” he asks, voice deep. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.” Even though he extends his hand for her to shake, his words and expression are so cold and distant that she doesn’t believe him. Does this man know the definition of pleasure? She doesn’t think so.</p><p>“Welcome to San Francisco,” she says, shaking his hand. “It was good of you to come all this way.”</p><p>“It’s my job,” is his detached response. “Shall we get started?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> this got very out of control, and i changed some canon things a little bit to make it work for me. OOPS. thank you to jordan for introducing me to this series!

**PART I**

 

 

“You have got to be shitting me.”

With a world-weary sigh, Division Chief Hawke Snow pinches the bridge of his nose and replies, “No, Kincaid, I am most certainly not shitting you.” He usually encourages his agents to speak their mind with him – his team isn’t weak – but every now and again would it kill them to just do as he says? Letting his hand fall from his face, he looks at Special Agent Brenna Kincaid with icy eyes. “You’ll do as you are told and you cooperate.”

Kincaid – young and newly-minted, he might add – stares at him furiously, arms crossed and hip cocked. Blonde hair longer than it has been in months and curling around her shoulders, she looks healthier than she has in a long time. And he is about to ruin that. “Why the hell is Portland getting involved in our district?”

Hawke lets out another sigh, gesturing for her to sit. She stays standing. “What aren’t you telling me?” she challenges. Always a challenge, with her. Even before she made agent, when she was just an eager trainee and following her older brother around the office, she had been a pain in the ass. Now she was a pain in the ass with a gun and a downright spooky knack with computers.

“Sit,” he orders, voice leaving no room for argument. Blinking, she sits. “This case is special, Brenna.” He shouldn’t be using her first name. It’s not professional. But with this particular case…he can’t help it. “You’re being placed on it because you can provide special insight. Riley doesn’t think you should come within a hundred miles of this case, but I wanted to leave the choice up to you.” Brenna has gone very still across from him, her unique eyes focused intently on his face. “We think we have a copycat serial killer on our hands.”

“Who is he copying?” He can tell she already knows the answer.

“Santano Enrique.”

The agent across from him goes completely still, a predator caught in a trap. It’s only her steely will that is keeping her from lashing out, he thinks, from tearing at the walls until her fingers bleed. “Three girls have been found in similar situations and with similar wounds as Enrique’s killings. It can’t be him, since he’s dead,” Brutal words from the Division Chief, who had taken all the pleasure in the world in watching that criminal die, “but it’s clear we’ve got someone on our hands who thinks they can play the same game.” A pause. “If you want off the case, just say so. No judgment, no –“

“I want this case.” It doesn’t surprise him. After holding her gaze for a long moment, Hawke nods. “Then you’ll be working with the Portland office. The first two killings happened there, but the third moved up to San Francisco. I think the scumbag wants to do this in our backyard for a reason.”

Her eyes go cold, and he knows she understands. It’s because of her. She is the reason the monster got put behind bars, the reason he was put to death. Her face was plastered across the news, the image of her fiercely meeting Santano Enrique’s gaze at his trial having circulated for months on end.

It goes against every protective instinct Hawke has to let her on this case, but she put herself back together and she has the right to set this horror to rest. And after what happened to her, he will never, ever question her strength.

“Who’s the field agent from Portland?” she asks, holding herself together with nothing but an iron will.

“His name is,” Hawke looks at the email again, “Judd Lauren. He’s some sort of special ops field agent – all his records are sealed.” Eyes sliding to meet hers across his desk, he says, “I’m not sure what you’re in for with him, but be careful.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Judd Lauren is not what she expects. When Hawke had said ‘special ops’, her mind had filled with giant, muscley men in combat gear, which is nothing like the lithe, suit-wearing man standing in the center of their busy district office. Walking toward him slowly, Brenna lets herself study him for a moment. He’s tall, and while he is nowhere near as physically large as, say Hawke, he is clearly very strong. Dark hair is carefully combed away from his face, and she’s in the middle of thinking that he is actually incredibly gorgeous when his dark eyes lock on her and she almost stops in her tracks.

“Special Agent Kincaid?” he asks, voice deep. “It’s a pleasure to be working with you.” Even though he extends his hand for her to shake, his words and expression are so cold and distant that she doesn’t believe him. Does this man know the definition of pleasure? She doesn’t think so.

“Welcome to San Francisco,” she says, shaking his hand. “It was good of you to come all this way.”

“It’s my job,” is his detached response. “Shall we get started?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I can’t believe Hawke paired me with this guy!” Brenna exclaims as the bartender slides her cocktail toward her. “He’s a robot, I swear.”

Next to her, Sascha Duncan snorts lightly. “I highly doubt that. And I’m not sure it was Hawke’s choice.” Grumbling, Brenna takes a sip of her drink. Sascha had become an unexpected friend in the last year, having been instrumental in Brenna’s therapy after the incident. Brenna will forever be in her debt for her help, but Sascha isn’t the kind of person to hold debts. She did what she did because she loves helping people. And beyond that, she counts Brenna as a friend – and that is something Brenna holds dear.

“You should have seen him, though,” Brenna continued, all wound up for no apparent reason. “He’s so stiff. I just want to rip his tie off and muss up his hear and unbutton him.” She takes another aggressive sip of her drink and then sees Sascha is staring at her with an amused look on her beautiful face. “What?”

Taking a delicate sip of her own drink – Sascha has never held her alcohol well – she comments, “It seems like this Judd Lauren has got you all worked up.”

Sputtering, Brenna is already shaking her head. “No – no, he just…he’s just frustrating, that’s all. You should have heard him – he was all, I’m trained in field first aid and in this mission, I did this amazing feat and on that mission I did –“ She stops her stiff impersonation of Judd Lauren at Sascha’s laugh. “Okay, he didn’t actually say that stuff, but it’s his attitude. And I have to work with him for the foreseeable future, Sascha. Every day.”

A flicker of concern passes over Sascha’s dark eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay to work this case, Bren? I’m not questioning your professional capacity,” she says quickly, raising a hand to ward off Brenna’s impending comment, “but I am worried about you. You’re in such a good place now, and I don’t want this to take you back to where you were.”

Brenna pauses for a time, giving her friend’s concern the consideration that it deserves. Then she grips Sascha’s hand. “I won’t let it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The photos make the air freeze in her lungs. She sits stock still next to Judd, eyes glued to the array of shiny photos on the table in front of them, all brilliant red. There is so, so much blood. She can almost smell it, taste it. Heart beating like a hummingbird in her chest, it’s all she can do to just sit there as Judd starts talking through the details of each crime.

“It became clear quite early on that these were committed by someone with much less medical skill than Santano Enrique,” Lauren is saying in his icy voice, scrolling through a file on the slim laptop in front of him. “The cuts are made with much less precision, and are all different depths. This killer has neither the experience nor the patience Enrique had.” Sensing her utter stillness, he looks over with his fathomless dark eyes. “Are you unwell?”

Brenna snaps herself back together. “I’m fine. And I agree with your findings. The placement of the cuts may be relatively similar, but what made Enrique’s technique unique was its evenness, its precision. This person is like a fast and poorly-done imitation.” A sigh creeps from between her pursed lips. “Still just as deadly, though.”

“Yes,” Lauren agreed, and she can feel when his gaze leaves her. It’s like fingertips across her skin. “What sort of conclusions do you draw from both the technique and the change in location?”

Determination builds in Brenna’s chest. She can put a stop to this sick mess if she tries hard enough. What Santano Enrique did to her does not define her. She defines herself. “I think that it’s meant to be sloppy. He wants attention. He wants to make a splash. The first two were just practice,” she hypothesizes, stomach roiling, “and now he’s ready to play.”

Lauren nods, eyes gliding over the photos. “The question now is why he is doing this.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Judd Lauren can’t sleep. He has never needed much, just a few hours here and there, but never has it evaded him so thoroughly. The cheap motel the FBI has put him in isn’t the problem – he’s stayed in plenty of cheap motels or worse. It’s not the crack in the window that seeps in cold air from outside. It’s not the noise of someone above him watching TV.

It’s the case. It’s the girls that have been killed. It’s _her_.

Special Agent Brenna Kincaid was not what he expected. When she had strode toward him across the crowded office, he had a moment where he had thought that this small, young woman couldn’t possibly be the agent he was assigned to work with. She was shorter than she had looked on TV, her face still curved with youth. And yet in person she was so much more. There was life in her that just didn’t translate on screen.

Turning in his bed, he kicks off the covers and tries to go through the exercises he has been taught to get himself to sleep. None of them are working. He knows what happened to her. Of course he knows. It’s a different thing, however, to see the photos of those girls and to see Brenna staring at them with a resoluteness that staggers him.

He wonders if there is any man out there worthy of such strength. Certainly not him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Turn left here,” Brenna directs as Lauren drives them to the building in downtown San Francisco where the last girl was found. She can’t even call him ‘Judd’ in her mind – it seems too casual for the stony, straight-laced agent beside her. They’re working together well, which is surprising everybody – especially Hawke – but Brenna finds she is learning how to understand how his brain works. She also understands that he will do anything to make sure these murders stop. That, she understands most of all.

They pull into the parking lot of the building, slipping out into the light drizzle. Brenna pulls the hood of her jacket up but notices that Lauren just stands there, letting the droplets bead in his dark hair. “Let’s go inside,” she says, eager to keep working.

The building manager doesn’t like them, but Brenna thinks that more due to the fact that they are proof that a body was found in his place of work than the manager not wanting to help them. People get shaken by murder. He shows them the place the body was found, and Brenna and Lauren look the place over. It’s already been swept by the crime scene techs, of course, but it doesn’t hurt to look, to get a feel for the place.

“Another difference,” Lauren says once the manager has walked a distance away to nervously take a smoke, “is that Enrique always left his victims in places that were important to them. This, this is just a dumping ground for our new killer.”

Taking a steadying breath of the cool, damp air, Brenna nods. “You’re right, Lauren.” “Judd.” Her head jerks up. “You can call me Judd.” A little dumbstruck, she nods, flashing him a weak smile. He just nods, but she thinks there is a tiny hint of color in his cheeks. God damn it, she thought. How could the hardest man she had met be so damn adorable?

These are thoughts she definitely shouldn’t be having.

Things go south when the building manager tells them that the equipment in the security room is on the fritz and they won’t be able to view the security footage other than what he had already sent the FBI. Undeterred, Brenna smiles and tells him its fine, but catches Judd as he makes to go for the exit. A wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows, he looks at her. “What are you doing? There’s no more we can do here.”

Holding up a finger, she makes a show of checking her phone like something important has just been emailed to her. The manager wanders away, and they’re left alone in the hallway. Without hesitation, Brenna opens the door to the security room and pulls Judd in after her.

“This is very much against protocol,” Judd murmurs, but he doesn’t stop her. Biting back a grin, Brenna tells him to shut the door before sliding into the seat in front of the array of screens.

He doesn’t say a word as she quickly checks the system and works her magic. This was her initial focus, after all. Before the incident, she had simply been an analyst for the Bureau. She still loves this – building tech and analyzing computer systems. And she is good at it. “Ah hah. There we go. Fixed the glitch the manager mentioned. Now we have unimpeded access to the security footage.”

Over her shoulder, Judd assesses quietly. “You want to look further back in the footage, to see if the killer scoped out the location before he ever committed the crime.”

“Yes,” she replies, not surprised that he caught on.

A tight sigh. “This is not exactly legal.”

Her phone beeps, and she checks it quickly just to see a text from Drew. She’ll answer it later, when she’s not sort-of-kind-of breaking the law. Lightning fast, she grabs one of the few thumb drives she keeps in her purse at all times and loads the video footage on to it. They don’t have time to go through all of it now, but once they’re back in the office they’ll be fine. Shutting down the system, she goes for the door and he follows, quiet as a shadow. Not for the first time, she wonders what he did as a special ops officer that got his record blacked-out.

Night has fallen outside, the drizzle turning to real rain. They walk to the car, unconcerned, and slide inside. As Brenna’s doing her seatbelt, her phone beeps. “Oh, crap, I have to take this. What is it, Riley?” she asks her brother, who is also one of her superiors.

Judd’s phone buzzes and he answers. The little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Another girl is missing,” Riley bites out, just as Brenna notices Judd go very, very still. He’s gotten the same call. “Bren, I think you should get off this case. You’ve made so much progress since –“

“No, Riley,” she snaps, heart lodged in her throat. “I’m not letting another girl be terrified and hurt like I was. I will not let another girl be killed.”

There’s a tense silence, and then Riley sighs. “You’re as stubborn as they come, Brenna.”

“Says _The Wall_ ,” she teases back weakly, hand clenched on her knee.

“Shut up. Your partner should be getting the details – I just wanted to call and…well, never mind. Just be careful.” When she assures him that she will, they hang up and she shifts to face Judd. Her partner. Strange how happy that makes her.

“So,” she begins slowly, trying to maintain the calm that Sascha helped her achieve, “another girl.”

Nodding, Judd pulls up an email on his phone. “Kylie Christensen. 19. A student at Berkeley. She was reported missing by her brother just a few hours ago, but has been missing for over 24 hours. Here’s a photo.” He holds his phone up for her to see.

Seeing the picture of the leggy blonde, it’s hard to ignore the similarities that send Brenna’s heart stumbling. Not the height, nor really any of the features of her face. But even in a photo, Kylie looked vivacious and energetic. _Alive_. Brenna used to look that way. She gulps down a breath.

Judd goes very still. “Are you okay?”

“He’ll cut her hair,” she says. “If this guys is following Enrique to the letter, he’ll cut her hair. He’ll take part of her femininity, part what makes her who she is. That’s what he’ll do first.” The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. In a rush, its her hair being cut – her limbs being tied down. All she can smell is sickeningly sweet blood and his sweat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Brenna.” Judd sees a sort of fragile stillness to her body that makes him inexplicably angry. “Come back.” It’s an order, and she responds to it as he thought she might.

Baring her teeth, she snarls at him. “I’m right here.”

“No, you weren’t.” He shakes his head, not unkindly. “You were back in that room.”

Her next words come hissing through her teeth, like she fought them the whole way out. “He broke me. The God damn bastard broke me.”

Judd stares out the windshield as it begins to rain harder. “From what I understand, you were integral in Santano’s eventual capture and imprisonment. You gave testimony at his trial and again at his appeal. You were present at his execution.” He hears her let out a shuddering breath. “Additionally, you are one of the finest FBI agents in San Francisco. That does not seem like the work of a broken person.” In fact, she might just be the strongest person he has ever met. He just doesn’t know how to say it.

Brenna’s eyes are rimmed with red when she looks at him, but she isn’t crying. Instead she is watching him with indescribable focus, her brilliant eyes all but glowing in the dim light. They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, the whole world stopped outside of their car. “Let’s go,” she says roughly. Judd starts the ignition.

They drive in silence until Judd gets them back to the station. Before they get out, she leans over and closes her hand over his. “Thank you.” Then she is gone.

Her touch lingers on his skin for hours.


	2. part ii

**PART II**

 

The next 24 hours are frantic. Though they had already been up for nearly a full day, Brenna and Judd work through the night with the rest of the team, coordinating with the local PD and sheriff. They watch hours of footage from ATMs and store fronts and gas stations around the area where Kylie had been taken, trying to peg a face, and coordinate with officers in the field who look for anything on the streets that might help. Brenna downs stale coffee from the kitchen but Judd refuses, saying that he never drinks coffee.

Hawke is right there beside them, issuing orders to the various teams involved and giving Brenna and Judd clearance when need be. It isn’t until grey, early morning light is coming through the office windows that he puts a hand on Brenna’s shoulder and insists she get a couple of hours of rest. “You too, Lauren. You may not report to me, but you’re in my division and that means you’re one of us.”

Judd blinks in surprise, straightening in his seat. Nobody has ever counted him as one of their own. As Brenna argues with her boss, insisting that she is fine, he finds himself staring at the way her hair that has fallen out of her bun has curled next to her neck. The skin there looks soft, and he finds himself wanting to touch it.

Standing so suddenly that it halts the conversation (argument) between Brenna and Hawke, he announces, “I think an hour of rest would do us good.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” says a voice next to him, and he looks over to find Riley Kincaid standing with his arms crossed. “Brenna, get some sleep.” An order not just from a superior, but from an older brother.

It clearly rankles Brenna – her nose wrinkles as if she is going to snarl at him – but then something on her face changes, and the fight drains out of her.She holds eye contact with her brother for another beat, sighing. “Fine. An hour.” Her brother herds them into Hawke’s office, where two cots have been squished in between the desk and the wall. Ordering the two of them into the cots, Riley turns off the lights with a decisive flick and shuts the door.

Brenna collapses immediately and is asleep between one breath and the next. More slowly, Judd settles down on his side facing her, instinctively keeping an eye on the door – when he manages to pull his gaze from the agent on the cot next to him.

Her face has softened in sleep, eyelashes golden on her cheek. Judd…wants to touch her. He wants to wrap himself around her and soak in her smell and the warmth of her. Wants to know if the skin of her legs is as soft as he thinks it might be. Wants to run his lips along the underside of her jaw. Wants to see echoed desire in her eyes.

Judd is not a man who has ever wanted anything. Maybe it’s because he had never known anything worth wanting until her.

After a moment of watching her with unfamiliar tenderness, he slides into sleep and is awoken some time later by a forceful shaking. “Judd. Up,” Brenna orders, leaning over him. For a second he can’t think with her so close, with her hand touching his upper arm. “Drew found something,” she tells him, eyes already alert.

“Drew?” he asks, voice rough even from the short span of sleep. Sitting up as she moves away, he rubs his face absently.

Brenna gives a breathy laugh that wraps itself in close beside his heart. “My brother. My other brother.”

Andrew Kincaid is also not was Judd expects. Though tall and broad, like Riley, personality-wise he couldn’t be more different. Despite the early hour and the subject matter, he is full of energy and smiles jauntily at Judd when they walk out of Hawke’s office. “Nice to meet you, Judd,” he says as he shakes Judd’s hand, completely dispatching with formality. “Brenna will have told you we’ve found something. Come here and take a look at this.”

Having warded off the cup of coffee Hawke tries to hand him, Judd stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Brenna looking at the computer monitors. The light touch of her shoulder on his is incredibly distracting.

“See this?” Drew is pointing to a figure walking out of a store on the screen, the footage grainy and dark. “We started looking at stores in the city that had sold certain things like food, ropes, restraints – this guy is keeping the girls alive for days before he eventually kills them, just like Enrique.” Without looking away from the screen, Drew’s hand reaches back and squeezes Brenna’s knee in reassurance, and Judd feels the tension in Brenna’s spine ease infinitesimally.

Hawke’s voice is rough as he growls, “It means we have time to find them. Take a look, Brenna. Do you recognize him?” Not for the first time, Judd thinks about the way the division chief speaks to his agents. Right now he is offering Brenna a lifeline, calmly reassuring while encouraging her to take action. It’s exactly what she needs in that moment.

Leaning forward with a frown, Brenna studies the picture for a moment before gasping.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Him.” It’s hard to see at first, given the quality of the footage, but she knows that face.

“That’s him?” Judd has gone predator-still beside her, and she has to actively stifle the instinct to reach out and touch him in reassurance. And besides, she’s trembling and doesn’t want him to see her hand shake.

Riley is at her other shoulder, and sets a broad hand on her back. “We’re not sure yet, but it seems like if he has shown his face again, it’s for a reason.”

“Dieter,” Judd says, clearly having raked through his expansive memory. “He was...a fan, wasn’t he?”

Brenna swallows the bile in her throat. “He was part of Enrique’s fan club, yeah. All through the trail he was organizing letters to try and get Enrique freed, and harassing the press – and me.” She tilts her chin up and straightens her spine, not letting even the memory of this pathetic excuse for a human being bend her. “I think he saw me as unfinished business.”

She knows the words hurt her brothers – they still haven’t quite gotten use to the fact that she got home safe, that she is a functional human being now. They keep treating her like they expect her to break again, and even though she loves them, it makes her want to punch them in their concerned faces. So instead of concentrating on their barely-contained violence, she focuses instead on the silent man next to her. “What do you think?”

Dark eyes sliding from the screen to her, he takes a moment to respond. “From his past behavior, it makes sense that he would come back to San Francisco after practicing twice,” the words barely make it past his teeth, “and try to make as big a commotion as possible. He wants media attention. It’s possible he also thinks that this will provide justice for what was done to Santano Enrique.”

“That bastard doesn’t deserve justice,” Drew growled, his shoulders stiff. Brenna lays a hand on his neck to calm him.

“We know that,” Judd continues calmly, “but this is not an individual thinking logically.” His eyes on her are a brand. “It’s also possible that he means to draw you out.”

The panic that flares bright in front of her eyes is momentarily sickening, but she takes a deep breath. “Then, maybe we let him.”

The reaction is instantaneous. “No way,” Drew all but shouts, over Riley’s low, “Over our dead bodies,” and Hawke’s firm, “Not a chance, Kincaid.” She lets them get out their anger, then crosses her arms and gives them all an arch stare. “How else are we going to catch him? You lost him after he left the store, right? He drops off streets with surveillance cameras.” They don’t answer immediately, but she knows she has the winning hand when she says, voice remarkably unshaking, “Kylie is running out of time. This is our best chance at getting him.”

The silence that follows her words is heavy, yet fragile. Judd is the one who breaks it, speaking for his position at her side. “It will be dangerous, but Brenna is right. This may be our only change to both save the girl’s life and capture the criminal.” There is a darkness in his eyes that should have scared her, but instead, it is one that she understands. “We cannot allow him to get away with another murder.”

“No,” says Hawke slowly, his pale eyes pinning Brenna in place, “We can’t. That’s why we’re going to do as you suggest, but very, very carefully.” When Riley and Drew made to object, he turned his icy gaze on them. “Every precaution possible will be taken. It’s incredibly risky, but we can’t let him slip away now, not when there’s an innocent life on the line.” Sighing tightly, he nodded to Brenna and Judd. “So, how do we do this?”

The next three hours are spent discussing and arguing, both of her brothers wanting to (essentially) bring in a SWAT team for back-up while Hawke, Judd and Brenna all want a less overt operation. “Careful planning and a little subtlety will get us further than brute strength,” Hawke argues, going toe-to-toe with Riley. They two rarely argue – in fact, Riley rarely raises his voice – but tension is running high. Time is slipping through their fingers and it’s their little sister on the line.

“Riley,” Brenna sighs, “go take a breather. See if Indigo has all of the teams set up the way we want.” For a moment her big brother glares at her, but then he rolls his shoulders and lets out a breath, conceding momentary defeat. Drew goes with him, hand on his brother’s back. That’s Drew – playful, brash and always, always looking out for those around him.

Judd watches them go. “Your brothers are very protective of you.”

Tucking her hair behind her ears, Brenna nods. “Our parents were killed in a car crash when we were kids. Riley was old enough that he took on a lot of the responsibility of raising me and Drew.” The agent beside her doesn’t say any more after that, but she can feel him mulling over her words. For some reason, she knows that he understands what she hasn’t said – the toll it had taken on Riley, the fierce love she had for her remaining family, the bond that ties the three siblings together. Though he doesn’t say a word, Brenna feels an inexplicable sense of companionship with him.

It is broken by a spike of panic as her eyes catch the time on the clock. “We should move soon.”

Judd nods, his eyes never leaving her. “Are you sure you’re prepared for this?”

Holding his gaze, his intense focus feeling like fingertips running across the back of her neck, she nods solemnly. “I won’t let another person be hurt the way I was hurt, and I won’t let fear dictate my life.” In his eyes, she saw something flicker. She wants to reach out and touch him.

When Drew and Riley come back, everybody slightly calmer, they agree on the final details of the plan. Hawke goes to brief the teams who will be out in the field with them, and Brenna goes to suit up.

Judd follows her like a shadow. She can feel his presence like a live wire, on her heels as she goes into the tech room. It’s almost funny when he weighs in on what time of mic she should use, as if he thinks he knows the technology better than he does. Waving him away, she chooses the one she wants and goes to the locker room to change.

He shuts the door behind them, shutting out the noise of the rest of the world, and Brenna pauses before taking off her shirt in one swift move with her back still to him. His gaze strokes up her spine. Turning, her chin raised in challenge, she holds out the wire. “Help me attach it?" The agent’s eyes are dark as he approaches, and she quakes at his closeness.

Maybe this game is too dangerous for her.

 

* * *

 

 

She is so close, _much_. The boldness of her taking her shirt off was a challenge across the chessboard, her eyes bright and determined. The mic is necessary for the operation, but she can attach it herself. Asking him to help is…a desire, not a need. Perhaps she wants to feel his hands on her skin as much as he wants to feel hers on his.

Inhaling deeply, he takes the wire and runs it down her stomach, around her hip and attaches the battery to the back of her pants. There are two tiny dimples in her lower back, her golden skin creamy and deliciously soft-looking. Where his fingers brush her skin, goose bumps appear in the wake of his touch. It’s so distracting that he doesn’t notice the thin, silvery lines for a moment.

Scars. From Santano Enrique. Proof that she was brutalized as no human being should be. His hand clenches on the wire, and it takes several furious beats of his heart for him to regulate his emotions again.

“Judd?” Her voice is hushed and she turns her head so that he can see her profile as he stands behind her.

“Yes?” he responds, and his voice is much lower than normal. There is something intimate about being in this semi-dark room, alone with her. He knows that he is physically attracted to her – physical attraction, while not very common for him, is something he recognizes. But this…this is more than that. He doesn’t know what it is.

As he makes sure the wire of her mic lays flat, trying to ignore the expanse of skin that was now in front of him, he feels her shift and clear her throat. “You’ll be there the whole time.” It isn’t a question, but it is. “I will,” he replies, coming around in front of her again when he was sure the wire is secure and won’t be obvious once she was clothed. It takes everything in him not to run his fingers down the smooth skin of her stomach.

Nodding, she slips on her shirt – to his infinite regret – and bullet proof vest, to be topped by a thick sweater. “My brothers think I need protecting. Do you?”

There’s a challenge in her eyes as she shakes her hair back from his face. Judd can only answer honestly. “Yes. But I think that, right now, what you need is a partner.”

 

* * *

 

 

Her heart gives an almost painful squeeze. Reaching out, she takes a chance and squeezes his arm. He goes very still when she touches him, but when she meets his eyes she sees something there that makes her stomach flip. She desperately wants to kiss him, when she is about to walk into a situation that could so easily go wrong and she might never get the chance. But that would be to admit defeat, and Brenna Kincaid does not admit defeat.

Drew taps on the door frame, peering in. “You ready?” He is dressed in combat gear, and will be in the field with her and Judd while Riley and Hawke coordinate the teams.

“Ready,” Brenna answers, brushing by Judd as she walks out of the room. “It’s now or never.”


	3. part iii

**PART III**

 

 

The hours before dawn and cool and grey, rain having given way to thick fog. Brenna walks down the empty street, the noise of her boots on the pavement echoing off of the buildings on either side.

“We’re right with you,” Judd says, his voice in her ear. It almost sounds like he’s right next to each other. She knows he’s watching – that her whole team is watching. She knows that there are snipers on the roofs and squads on the ground, ready to come to her aid the second she calls them in. She knows that she is wearing a bullet proof vest, and that she has been trained well. She is smart, she is skilled. She knows all of this.

But sometimes knowing isn’t enough.

Taking a shaky breath of cold air, Brenna stops at the cross streets they had picked. It hadn’t been hard to plaster a simple, cryptic message on the message boards Dieter frequented once – ones they are fairly certain that he still does, just under a new name since the FBI started watching him. _Unfinished business_ , the message said, _can only remain unfinished for so long_. _BK._

Every one of her senses is on high alert, her skin crawling with the anticipation.

“There you are,” a voice says through the fog. Brenna goes still. “I was wondering if you’d come.”

Dieter walks toward her, at the far end of the block. Every inch of him is filled with swaggering confidence. He expects to get away with this tonight. Gritting her teeth, Brenna keeps her fury in check. “I said that I would come, and I came,” she answers coolly. “A promise is a promise.”

The man is nondescript in every way, but his face is burned into her memory. He grabbed her once, as she was leaving the courthouse after testifying against Enrique. He had called her a bitch, told her she should recant. It had taken every bit of restraint in her not to punch him in the face. Now, as he saunters toward her and a girl’s life is at risk, she has to exercise the same restraint.

“Let’s not play games, _Agent_ Kincaid,” Dieter says, his voice slippery. “You know that I have another girl – another girl _like you_.”

Bile in her throat. “You seem to like honoring Santano,” she says, forcing herself to use the killer’s first name. “Are you using the same locations he did? Revisiting them to make new memories? 

Dieter smiles, stops about thirty feet from her. “You know me well, Brenna. I know you’d check all of the old locations, but Santano’s old apartment? It wasn’t hard to rent it under a false name.” He must be terribly confident that he can finish her soon, to give up this information – or he really didn’t care about Kylie, and it’s all about her. Anticipation tingles up Brenna’s spine. “It is an honor to take up Santano’s work, which you so rudely interrupted. And you, my dear, are the final piece."

A voice in her ear. “Brenna –“

The street explodes. Brenna is thrown back, everything around her turning to noise and white smoke and debris. She lands hard, skidding across the pavement and into a wall, the world going black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The street is destroyed. Shielding his mouth, Judd tries to see what happened. A grenade? A car bomb? Something that Dieter triggered.

“I’ve lost visual contact with Brenna,” Judd grits into his ear piece, heart pulsing with panic. The fog and the smoke mixed together have created a noxious, thick wall of white-grey that obscures the entire street.

Drew answers quickly. “I see her. Moving to intercept.”

As Judd runs alongside a building, his gun up and armed, Hawke’s voice growls in his ear, “Dieter is still at large. The smoke is making it near impossible for our snipers to take a shot.” They don’t want to hit Brenna or any of the other operatives.

There is another bang across the street, and Judd pivots to aim his gun into the smoke. “I’ve got motion at –“

Gunshots ring out down the street from him, and a heart-rending scream follows.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“NO!”

The scream chills him to the bone. He sprints toward the noise, bursts of gunfire and yells. He can barely see a thing, but finally he sees dark shapes moving in the smoke. His brain is slow in understanding what he sees – there is a figure on the ground, and two more struggling just beyond it.

Brenna. Dieter is on top of Brenna, his hands around her neck. She is struggling mightily, but he is much bigger than her, and using his weight to press her into the ground.

Judd moves faster that he has ever moved before. The second he reaches the struggling bodies, he brings the butt of his gun down sharply on the back of Dieter’s head, sending him sprawling with a cry. Wild eyed, the man tries to block Judd, but that is impossible. Judd moves too quickly, every atom in his body attuned to this one purpose – ending the man who nearly took Brenna from him.

A series of precise hits to pressure points on Dieter’s body, making him cry out in pain as his limbs fell limp. With cool control, Judd leaned down from his position above the man’s body and put a hand around the man’s throat.

“You can’t kill me,” Dieter choked out, fear in his eyes. “You need me to find –“

“Is Kylie Christensen still alive?” Judd demanded, tightening his hold. Dieter’s eyes widened, but he could only struggle so much. “Tell me or I’ll kill you.”

A rasping cough. “You can’t. You’re FBI.”

Judd leans closer, voice chilling. “My record is entirely blacked out. What does that tell you?”

Dieter goes still, believing the threat he reads in Judd’s eyes. _Good. He should_. Judd will not hesitate to kill him – but first he needs to save a girl. Giving a choking cough, Dieter’s eyes slide up to the fog and smoke all around them, as if looking for any other way out. He won’t find any. “To be in the space…it’s like you can feel him.” There’s spittle on the man’s lips from each rasping breath, his face starting to turn red. “It seemed a fitting place to – to draw her out. To finish it.”

Leaning closer, Judd bared his teeth. “You will never have her.” He reels back, intent on pummeling the man into the pavement, but before he can do a thing – blood splashes over him, a mangled mess where Dieter’s head once was.

Shocked, Judd looks up and sees Brenna, both hands on the gun aimed at the place where Dieter’s head had been. They stare at each other for a long moment, both breathing hard, before Brenna’s hands drop and she wheels around to sprint back the way she came – towards where Andrew’s body lay on the ground.

At her side in a flash, he sees bright blood pooling on Drew’s chest. “No, no, no, no, no.” The words spilled from Brenna’s mouth in an unconscious stream. She instinctively placed her hands on his chest, putting pressure on the wound. When she looked up at him, her eyes were wild. “Judd.”

“The medics are on their way, but they won’t be here for maybe five or ten minutes,” Hawke says gruffly, having appeared out of nowhere, clutching a phone to his ear with one hand and a rifle in the other, staring at Drew.

“He’ll bleed out before then,” Judd tells them bluntly, his hands slick with blood as he replaces Brenna’s hands with his own. She isn’t crying, but she’s shaking from everything that happened. “Breathe, Brenna,” he tells her.

Suddenly her focus snaps to him. “You have to save him.”

“Brenna, I –“

“You have the training, you said you do,” she shouts, face a mask of terrified determination. “You have the steadiest hands of anyone I’ve ever known. You can do this. _Please_ , Judd.”

He can deny her nothing.

Snatching up the pitifully inadequate field medic kit someone has brought, he grabs the tools and slips into an unconsciously calm mode of operation. Noise fades into the background, all panic and fear. He can feel Brenna’s presence beside him, a constant warmth, but he doesn’t hear her words. He just works as fast as he can to stop the bleeding so that Drew doesn’t die before the ambulance gets there.

He does. Miraculously, he does. Drew is still weak and in need of surgery, but he managed to hold him there until help could arrive. As he stands, exhausted and covered in blood and watching the ambulance fade into the fog, he lets out a long breath. Riley had gone with Andrew, as had Brenna. He watches her go, feeling strangely off-balance.

Hawke appears next to him, hair wild. “You saved his life.”

“I did the best I could,” Judd replies honestly. “The rest is up to the doctors.” Agents had immediately been dispatched to rescue Kylie Christensen, but the girl would likely suffer life-long trauma from what she had been through. Judd’s jaw tightens.

Silent for some time, Hawke studies him with cool eyes. People eddy around them – civilians who heard the noise, police support, local news teams. Standing in the middle of it all, Judd feels numb as the adrenaline starts to fade.

“We could use a man like you,” Hawke says after a while, arms crossed over his chest. “You’d be welcome in the San Francisco chapter. It was a good thing you did, today. Kylie is alive because of you, as is Drew. No more people will be hurt because of that bastard Enrique.” The man’s lips curl in a snarl.

Pulling himself back together, Judd replies, “The suspect was killed. That is not what a count as a success.” Not for the FBI, anyway. He has absolutely no regrets about Brenna killing that man. “I intend to write a report immediately that makes it clear Agent Kincaid acted in defense.” If she hadn’t shot Dieter, Judd would have snapped his neck a moment later. He won’t let her carry that blood on her hands.

“Bren’ll be fine,” Hawke sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She’s stronger than all of us, I think.” Judd doesn’t disagree. When he looks at Hawke, the division chief’s sharp eyes are trained on him. “I mean what I said, Lauren. Just think about it. And for fuck’s sake, get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

He walks away, leaving Judd standing in the middle of the street.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s nearly five in the morning when there is a knock on his door. Out of instinct, Judd picks up a gun before checking – and his heart stutters. Opening the door, he finds a pale, dirty Brenna. “Andrew?”

Ducking past him and into the hotel room, she tucks her hands in her pockets. He shuts the door. “The paramedics say you saved his life. If you hadn’t been there…” She doesn’t have to say the rest. When she looks at him, her brilliant eyes are rimmed with red – the tears she hasn’t let herself shed yet. “Thank you, Judd.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells her.

“I do, though,” she says decidedly, frowning a little. “Of course I do. You saved my life, too.”

The thought of her dead makes his vision darken for a second, his hands clench at his sides. Unacceptable. “I wouldn’t let any harm come to you,” he murmurs gruffly.

“I know.”

For a moment they simply lock eyes, but the strength of it makes him burn.

“I want you,” she states suddenly, cheeks rosy. He blinks, stunned, a wave of overwhelming _want_ rising up in his chest. Brenna clearly feels self-conscious for having said it, though it has _floored him_ , and sets her jaw in defiance. “I haven’t – I haven’t been with anyone since I was taken by Enrique, and I want to be with you.”

She never stops amazing him. Anger licks up the back of his neck at the thought of the extent of what Enrique did to her to make her shy away from a sexual partner for so long – though he is also somehow selfishly glad she has chosen him, when he is so unworthy of her.

He decides he’s done caring. He wants her to be his.

But she’s not done talking. Even as the sexual tension simmers between them, she wants answers. Looking at him intently, she says, “You never told me where you learned all that – the fighting, the first aid. That’s not standard FBI training.”

Staying very still, aware he is standing at the edge of a cliff, Judd answers, “I supplemented my training.”

“Why?”

“Why do you want to know?” he pushes, meeting her eyes sharply.

She isn’t so easily scared away. “Because I want to understand you.” He doesn’t know what to say to that, and when he doesn’t say anything, she keeps going. “I get the feeling that you think that your extra skills…keep you in check, somehow. As if the more training you have, the more in control you’ll be…like you think you’re dangerous.”

“I am dangerous,” he tells her.

“Bullshit,” is her immediate response. “You saved my life, my brother’s life. Your work saved the life of at least one woman – probably more, if Dieter had kept going.” No answer. Judd feels as though his spine has been wrought from iron. “Your skills, your training – they’ve saved lives. Why do you think you’re a monster?” she whispers, coming to stand right in front of him. “Tell me.”

It takes a long time for him to respond. “I showed signs of a troubled nature, when I was a child,” he tells her, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. He has never spoken them before. “My parents were told that it would be in my best interest to surrender me to a series of intensive boarding schools. The schools I attended placed importance on structure and regulation.” A pause. “I don’t know what I would have become without them.” Possibly even the creature that had defiled Brenna. The thought makes his hands tighten on his legs, tendons standing out in stark white. "It's why the FBI gives me certain...leeway when it comes to my work. They know my skills, and they let me go after targets that have proven difficult to capture by others. I'm a specialist of sorts."

She places her hand flat on his chest, a strong pressure. “No child should be abandoned like that.”

But he hadn’t been abandoned. The words stick in his throat, the emotion too intense, and he finds he can’t tell her about Walker and how his brother made sure he knew that his family hadn’t abandoned him. It was the one thing that kept him anchored to the earth when his demons shouted down the better angels in his mind.

She snaps his thoughts back to the present. “Hey. You’re here now. You got through it, and – and you’re incredible.” There’s an almost sheepish smile on her face.

He is speechless.

Tentatively, Brenna lifts her hands – almost as if she knows he will spook if she moves quickly – and places them on either side of his face. “You’re incredible, Judd Lauren,” says the woman who is stronger than he will ever be. Then she is bending him to her, her mouth gently touching is.

One touch is all it takes to snap his control. Pulling her tightly against him, he kisses her hard, feeling her hands slide to latch on to his hair. A muffled whimper works its way out of her and he shudders, pulling her closer still. She will never be close enough.

 


	4. part iv

**PART IV**

 

Despite her earlier confession of nervousness, Brenna feels pretty damn fantastic. She’s making out with Judd Lauren and he is every bit as intoxicating as she thought he would be.

For so long, the thought of any man’s hands on her had made her shudder and spend nights curled up alone in her apartment, trying to convince herself she didn’t need touch. But she does – and now she is like a drowning person coming up for air. She grasps his shirt, runs her hands over the hard muscles of his stomach, the wide planes of his back. His hair is soft and thick, his jaw scratchy with stubble.

And Judd, Judd is the same. Her body is filled with the sensation of his hands on her, cupping the back of her neck, sloping across her shoulder blade, down her back. Bracketing her rib cage, he turns them so that she is pressed against the beige hotel wall, and she gasps a little as his hips meet hers. His erection presses against her stomach, making her shiver. Yes, she wants him. Desperately.

Judd pulls back suddenly. “Do you not want to be pressed against the wall?”

It takes her a moment to realize what he means – the man has kissed her into a delirious state of bliss. She blinks. He thinks she feels trapped between him and the wall. Something warm wraps around her heart, and she strokes his cheek with a tenderness she can’t help but show. “No. I’m fine.” He doesn’t look entirely convinced, so she orders, “Kiss me.”

And he does. Oh, he does. Judd Lauren kisses with the same intense focus he gives everything else, and feeling that focus on _her_ is spine-tingling. “Pants off,” she orders next, and again he complies, lightly scraping his teeth along her jaw as he simultaneously pushes his black pants off of his hips. Hers follow shortly after, his hands skimming across her ass as he pushes them down and she musses his hair like she has wanted to for days.

He lifts her easily, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Brenna sucks in a breath as his erection presses against her core, only their underwear between them. After so long without touch, even that feels like almost enough to make her come. But he is intent on something else, and takes them toward his crappy motel bed.

The coils squeak as he tosses her down, making her laugh. As he stands above her, looking somewhat stunned, she pulls her shirt off and tosses it aside. Just in her cotton bra and underwear, she lies there and feels his eyes on her. It’s seriously enough to turn a girl to goo.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells her in a sharp whisper. His voice is like silk across her skin, the dark warmth of his eyes making her lick her lips.

Slowly, so slowly, he pulls off his own shirt and climbs onto the bed over her. The movement of his muscles of his chest and shoulders is so delicious that she bites back a moan. His eyes never leave her, and when he spreads his body across hers she does moan – into his mouth, as he seals his lips across hers again. She wants to touch all of him, and in her eagerness her nails scrape across his back, but the sharpness elicits a noise from his throat that makes her smile against his neck. He likes that.

When she sucks on his pulse, digging her nails into his back, he tells her that she has to stop. “Why?” she asks, unwilling to give up something this amazing so soon.

“Because,” he grinds out, pulling away just enough to look her in the eye, “if you do that, this is going to be over a lot sooner than I’d like it to be.”

Playfully, she leans up and nips at his lip. “And how long would you like it to be?”

He doesn’t smile, but there is still amusement lurking in his eyes. “Given the extensive plans I have made, I would say quite a bit longer than the next five minutes – which is what you’ll get if you keep that up.” To her surprise, he leans down and nips her lower lip in return. “Is that what you want, Brenna Kincaid?" 

She’s beaming. “You’ve been planning?”

Instead of answering, he kisses her, pressing her into the mattress with a deep groan. Her laughter fizzles and she wraps her legs around him, reveling in the feel of his body on hers, the scrape of his stubble across her skin as he licks and kisses his way down her neck.

Her breath stutters in her lungs. Digging her hands into his hair, she asks, “Can I be on top?” Immediately, he obliges, and she settles her hips on top of his – making them both still for a moment. As his hands anchor her hips, smooth up her waist, she undoes her bra and tosses it aside, never taking her eyes from his.

She feels like a queen under his eyes, and though he doesn’t say a word, it doesn’t matter. She feels beautiful, powerful. When he lifts his hands to touch her, calloused palms just the right amount of rough on the sensitive skin of her breasts, she tilts her head back and moans. Her nipples ache for his touch, but -

“Brenna.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Judd has to fight back bile rising in his throat as he traces the silver scars lining her body. They are thin, precise. Enrique’s work. Though his touch is feather-light, there is barely restrained anger underneath the surface of his own skin, straining to break free. He can’t meet her gaze, for fear that she will see the blackness in his eyes.

Instead, she lets out a low hum and takes his head in her hands with infinite tenderness. “Everyone treats me like I’m broken,” she says, her voice a whisper, soothing against the raw fury of him, “but you treat me like I’m whole. That’s a gift.” His heart stumbles, and then he can do nothing but kiss her, hands spread wide on her back. She is small and curved, demanding and comforting.

Sex has always been just a physical exercise for him – never emotional. There are motions he learned, steps he has followed. But Brenna – Brenna throws everything out the window. She is liquid fire above him, shaking and sure of herself. Every touch of hers is like licking flame across his skin, igniting nerves he hadn’t known were capable of feeling.

Fisting her hair, he seals his mouth to hers and lets out a low groan that reverberates in his chest. “Brenna,” he groans into her mouth.

“Yes?” she teases – smiling against his lips. She is…teasing him. In bed. That is unexpected. And it just serves to make him want her more.

He almost gets lost in kissing her again, in running his hands across her back, the smooth skin of her ass. Her hair tickles his face, his neck, his chest. After a steadying breath, he manages to say, “I don’t have any condoms.”

Biting his lip and running her nails down his chest in a way that has him groaning and all but arching off the bed, she chuckles, the sound husky. “And here I thought you were a boy scout. Lucky for you, I came prepared.” His hands tighten on her hips instinctively when she moves to get off of him, but she bites his bottom lip again and he lets her go.

Brenna runs to her purse and fishes out a couple of condoms – they are definitely going to need more than one, he thinks. There is no way he’s letting her go after just one time – and runs back to him, somehow managing to look both giddy and sexy. “Okay, baby, let’s go,” she says, crawling back on to him and pushing her hair out of her face. “I want you so bad, Judd.”

The words are electric. He sits up and holds her to him as he licks and sucks her breasts, immensely enjoying the sound of her gasp over his head. Her fingers clench in his hair, which…is also something he finds he likes. Somehow, with Brenna, this all feels new.

“Judd,” she gasps as his teeth graze her nipple, and he grins into her skin. While he moves to her other breast, his hands slip up and into her underwear, stroking the soft and _wet_ skin there. Another gasp, this time coupled with a torrent of swearing. “Ohhhh, that feels good,” she moans, nails digging into the back of his neck.

She is exquisite, and she is his. There is no question of that in his mind. As his fingers part her labia and one dips into the silky heat of her and she arches back with a cry, he knows that he will never be able to touch anyone else, let anyone else touch her.

Lucky for him, the way she yanks his head back to seal her mouth to his speaks of the same predatory proprietary nature.

He rolls them so that he is on top, moving only enough so that they can both scramble out of their underwear with the desperation of teenagers. He barely manages to put on the condom between fierce, frenzied kisses. Brenna laughs at them, and he finds himself smiling in return.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brenna doesn’t know how she lucked out in meeting this man, but she doesn’t want to question it. The little smile he gives her – and it’s _tiny_ , but it’s definitely a smile – makes her stomach do a back flip. Dark hair flops over his forehead, casting shadows over his eyes, but they’re bright when they turn on her.

He settles between her legs, and she wraps her legs around his hips. Having him so close, the tip of him pressed against her, has her trembling. It doesn’t feel scary, doesn’t feel like a violation – nothing like anybody else she has ever been with. There is nothing in the room but the two of them.

When he slides into her, she gasps into his mouth, heart stuttering. He lets out a deep groan, head dropping to her shoulder as he hold himself still and lets her get used to him. Biting her lip, she shifts her hips, which earns her a scrape of teeth against her collarbone.

“Brenna?” he asks, lifting his head to look at her, breath hot on her mouth.

“I’m okay,” she breathes in return, one hand on his cheek. “More than okay. You can move.”

He does, and the delicious slide of him inside of her makes her tip her head back in blank pleasure. Everything is haze and sweat and his breath and his lips and his skin against hers. It barely takes a few minutes for her to shatter around him, back arching off the bed. The cry that spills from her throat can’t be held back, and in a few more thrusts he follows her.

She refuses to let him move away, wrapping her arms around his sweaty back and holding him to her. So, they just breath and regain themselves.

“That was…” Judd lifts his head, eyes hazy as he looks down at her. Feeling languorous and wonderful, Brenna leans up to kiss him.

“Pretty fucking amazing,” she finishes for him. He slides off of her, but before she can mourn the loss of him, he pulls her to his body. Wrapping herself happily around him, she presses a kiss to his shoulder and hums in contentment. “Have you slept yet?”

A pause. “No.”

Lifting her head, she glares at him. “You should sleep.”

“So should you.”

Her nose wrinkles. “Fine. We'll both sleep.” Settling down against him, she can’t help but smile, just a little. “Although I definitely want to do that again.”

A rumble she thinks might _maybe_ be a laugh. “One hour nap, then we go again.”

She doesn’t protest when, exactly one hour later, she is woken by his kiss between her thighs. After the earth-shattering orgasm that follows – and the one that follows that – she feels somehow wide awake. As Judd lays on his back, arms spread, she curls into his side, feeling happier than she has felt in a long time. “I want to do that every day,” she says without thinking.

Judd goes still.

_Shit._ “Judd?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

"It's nothing."

She isn't having it. "Do not do that to me, not after what we just went through. Judd, please."

“I’m not good for you,” he grates out, as if his body is trying to stop the words from being spoken at all. His heart is beating a ragged rhythm in his chest, wanting to touch her, wanting to claim her. But he doesn’t.

Brenna’s eyes narrow. “Hey, I decide what’s good for me.” Even in his anguish, her ferocity almost makes him smile. “And you, Judd Lauren, make me strong.

The world snaps into focus around him, as if she has made lines sharper, colors brighter. He wants her so desperately he can barely breath, but can’t not say, “I can’t give you what you need, Brenna. I’m – I’m not –“

He has never stumbled over his words, not once in his entire life.

“Your emotional repression isn’t going to scare me away,” she grins, eyes dipping to his mouth. “I’ve got a surprise for you, honey – you’re not as scary as you think you are.”

Judd frowns. “To most people, I am.”

The next words she speaks are against his lips. “Yeah, well I’m not most people.” Then her mouth is sealed across his, a brand that makes him shudder even as he takes her in his arms. He wants to give her everything – even things he doesn’t know if he’s capable of. It doesn’t matter. For her, he’ll shift the earth trying.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brenna wakes, achey in the most pleasant way and feeling more rested than she has…ever. Stretching lightly, feeling the scratchiness of starchy sheets, she lifts her head from the motel bed and finds Judd sitting on the chair across from the bed, watching her. With anyone else, it would have felt weird, but with him she just feels the warm lick of his gaze and feels safe.

The room is light – a crappy digital clock on the bedside says it’s nearly noon. “Baby, what are you doing?” she asks, voice rough with sleep. “Come back to bed. I think we’ve earned a day off.” He’s only wearing sweatpants slung low on his hips, and she’s very interested in licking every inch of him.

He doesn’t move though, just lifts what he’s holding in his hands – a phone, she sees. “I made a call to my office a little while ago.” A pause. There’s something he’s not saying.

Brenna sits up, and finds she’s wearing…a t-shirt of his, which she vaguely remembers grabbing at some point in the night after they had exhausted themselves. “What is it?”

For a moment he looks uncertain, and it nearly breaks her heart. “Judd, tell me,” she orders softly, heart leaping. Is it Drew? No – they would have called her directly. Did something happen with Kylie? Is –

“I’ve requested a transfer.”

Brenna blinks. That…is not what she had expected him to say. Slowly, it sinks in, and tears sting the backs of her eyes. “You did? 

He nods, and while he doesn’t smile, there is definitely something warm in his dark eyes. “Yes.”

Her chest feels too small for the emotion growing in her. “Might I ask where you’ve requested to be transferred to?” she teases.

“I thought San Francisco might be…optimal.” Okay, there is _definitely_ a smile hiding in his eyes

Beaming, she leaps from the bed in a flash. He stands and catches her when she launches herself into his arms, and they tangle together. She grips him tightly, laughing and tearing up, so brilliantly happy that it feels almost unreal. “Really? You’re sure?”

Judd’s voice is the same as it has always been, but there is warmth there that didn’t exist before. “I’m sure of you, Brenna. More sure than I’ve been of anything in my life.”

Pulling back, she grips his face in her hands and just looks at him. “I’m happy,” she murmurs. It’s all she says, but she knows that he understands the weight of it.

“I am, too,” he murmurs back, and she can only kiss him. Kiss him and welcome him home.


End file.
